


The Birthday Present

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Tim's birthday, and he thinks he is forgotten, until he gets the best presents of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birthday Present

The Birthday Present

 

It was 8:00AM on this particular Thursday in Gotham City.  For a change, the skies were clear and there were even birds chirping on the unseasonably warm morning.  They were pigeons, not songbirds, but this is Gotham, and you have to take what you get.  A taxi pulled up out front of a seemingly endless row of apartment buildings on Canal Street, in an area of Gotham currently undergoing renovation and urban renewal, thanks to business planning and a grant from the Wayne Foundation.  The project was being headed by Timothy Drake, current Chief Operating Officer of the Wayne Foundation, who also happened to be the person stepping out of the taxi.  After paying his fare from the airport and collecting his bag from the trunk of the car, Tim noticed that he was let off in front of the wrong building.  Tim shook his head and walked off, down the street, thinking _I told the driver 942 Canal, not 924 Canal._

At least this walk let him look over the progress the project had made since he left on his business trip last week.  Several buildings were in the process of a complete overhaul, and one that was just being torn down before he left now had part of a new frame in place.  In all, at least to Tim’s weary eyes, it looked like the project was progressing nicely.

There were two thoughts traveling through Tim’s mind as he entered the ground floor of his apartment building.  Thought number one was all pervading, “I am exhausted.”  Tim had been in Japan for a week for a trade show, followed by marathon negotiation sessions trying to work out a merger between Wayne Tech and a leading Japanese computer company.  Tim was looking to expand Wayne Tech’s new home computing branch into the Far East.  Being the shrewd businessman that Bruce believed him to be when he left the Foundation to Tim in his will, Tim had successfully accomplished the merger and found a distributer for new laptops when they started shipping next week.  Even though Bruce was back now, he still left much of this business to Tim, even if it was just because Bruce wanted to see Tim doing something he excelled at, and it gave Bruce someone else in the office that he actually wanted to be around.  Tim could always tell when Bruce was stressed, because he would get an email requesting (actually, demanding) that Tim meet him for a high level planning meeting.  These meetings tended to take place for several hours during the middle of the day, and always at expensive restaurants.  However, very little business was discussed, and even fewer decisions were made.

The second thought that crossed Tim’s mind was a bit depressing, “Yesterday was my birthday, and I completely forgot.”  Tim had hoped the trip to Japan would have been concluded earlier than it was, but the negotiations took a full two days longer than he expected.  He didn’t mind making sacrifices for the good of the company, and he didn’t like big celebrations and people making a fuss about him.  However, as he took a few minutes to check his email and text messages on the plane home, he noticed an overall lack of birthday wishes sent his way, and it was a bit perturbing to him.  He had the general, anonymous birthday emails from several of the websites he visited often, blogs he subscribed to, and online retailers that he used, but none from family or friends.  The texts had been a bit more encouraging.  He had gotten a group text from the Titans, a simple ‘Happy Birthday’ from Barbara Gordon, and a message full of smiley face and birthday cake emoticons from Stephanie Brown.  He even got one from Jason: “Congratulations on being another year closer to death, Replacement.” 

However, he had not heard from Bruce, Alfred, or Dick.  It scared him to not hear from Dick, because that usually meant that something had gone terribly wrong in his absence.  _Maybe he and Bruce, or he and Damian, are fighting again,_ Tim thought.  He knew that when Dick and Damian were going at it, Dick had 100% laser focus on the problem.  Heaven forbid a day went by when his ‘Little D’ was angry with him and Dick couldn’t steal a hug or a cuddle before bed.  Bruce was more understandable.  Tim fully expected Bruce to take him out for lunch one day next week and randomly proclaim that it was a birthday lunch.

Tim unlocked his mailbox and was greeted with a flood of envelopes and junk mail that had been crammed into the small box over the week he had been out of the country.  _Hmm, maybe I should have asked Dick to come by and get my mail for me._   Tim didn’t want to deal with it right now, but he hastily yanked out the pile, locked his box, and took the elevator up to his fifth floor apartment.

Tim almost fell asleep in the elevator while leaning against the wall.  Jet lag was starting to hit him as the car slowly ascended to his floor.  While dragging his suitcase out of the elevator and looking for his keys, Tim allowed himself a smile.  On his welcome mat outside of his apartment were two boxes, one small and one larger.  _Someone remembered after all, how nice._   Tim opened his apartment, nudged both boxes inside with his foot and locked the door behind him.  He dropped the mound of mail on the kitchen counter, dragged his suitcase into his bedroom, and placed both boxes on his couch.  The larger of the two boxes was heavier than he thought it would be.  It was when he noticed the box stamped fragile that he thought that maybe he shouldn’t have kicked it into the apartment.

Tim quickly unpacked his suitcase.  It was all dirty laundry anyway, which made unpacking very easy.  All he had to do was upend the suitcase over his laundry hamper, which unfortunately was already half full of clothes he hadn’t bothered washing before he left for his trip.  The smell of dirty socks hit him as he stood emptying his suitcase.  It didn’t get any better when he had to reach into the hamper and pull out his phone and laptop chargers, which had been thrown into the suitcase in his hurry to leave his hotel in Japan.  He decided to add a couple loads of laundry to the list of chores he had to do before he would allow himself to collapse into his nice, soft bed.  First thing first, though.  Tim stripped off the clothes he had been wearing for longer than he thought sanitary and took a long, hot shower.  He let the water massage his back and ease some of the tension out of his shoulders and neck.  After longer than absolutely necessary, he finally turned off the glorious stream and got himself dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants.  The shirt had a cartoon picture of the bat-signal shining above the Gotham skyline.  Dick had found them and bought one for everyone last Christmas.  Bruce had not been pleased, thinking that wearing such a thing may lead people to think he was Batman.  Dick had argued back that it was perfect camouflage; that no self-respecting superhero or vigilante would wear their own logo in broad daylight.  He had also bought Bruce a pair of Batman boxer shorts that he knew for a fact Bruce wore despite the complaints.  The memory put a smile on Tim’s weary face.

Tim took a few minutes to separate his laundry and put a load of socks and underwear into the washer.  He then went to the refrigerator in the hopes that whatever food he may have left in there had not spoiled while he was gone.  Another item was added to the chore list: grocery shopping, but that could wait until tomorrow.  Tim took a bottle of water and sat down on the couch to open his boxes. 

Reminding himself of the saying ‘Good things come in small packages’, Tim opened the smaller of the two boxes first with a small smile.  The small smile grew into a large smile when the saw the tin full of Alfred’s cookies and a note wishing him a happy birthday and providing an open invitation to come to dinner whenever he wanted.  Tim knew he was always invited for dinner at the manor; Alfred told him at least twice every time he saw the man; but it was always nice to hear, or in this case see, the words.  Tim took a chocolate chip cookie from the box and started to rethink his grocery shopping strategy.  He wanted some milk for these cookies and did not have any in the apartment.  The cookies were still fresh and soft.  Out of curiosity, Tim checked the packaging for when they had been mailed and saw, much to his surprise, that there were no post marks or postage on the wrapping.  Alfred had hand delivered the parcel that morning, before Tim had arrived.  _How did he know when I would get back,_ Tim thought, _I didn’t even know I would be leaving Japan until yesterday, and I didn’t call anyone._   Alfred was full of mysteries, but he wouldn’t be any good at his job if he wasn’t.

Tim ate two more cookies before turning to the other box.  He picked up the larger, heavier box, placed it on his lap, and out of curiosity checked the wrapping for postage.  This one had been mailed four days ago.  Knowing the Gotham postal system, Tim was surprised it had arrived in such a short time.  Looking closer, it had been mailed overnight express and been marked fragile, handle with care.  Tim looked at the return address and saw it came from Wayne Manor.  Tim smiled, “Maybe Bruce didn’t forget after all.”

Tim opened the parcel and felt his jaw drop.  _How the hell did he know?  How could he possibly know that I wanted one of these?_   Any feeling of tiredness or jetlag immediately left Tim’s body as he beheld the gift in front of him.

It was a new laptop.

It wasn’t just any new laptop, it was Wayne Tech’s newest model.  A top of the line supercomputer in the shell of a lightweight laptop.  Tim had been involved with the design specifications on the prototype model of this computer.  He had made it into exactly what he would want in a portable computer.  He was very lucky that the design department was headed by nerds and they could see the potential in the design Tim had laid out.  As such, it went into production with very few changes from the original specifications.  Tim never told any of the design team that what he was really designing was a portable Bat-Computer, but that is what now lay before him. 

“Only Bruce.  It had to be.  He knew how involved I was in this project, how I had been hoping to see it through before the urban renewal project started.”  Tim tried to rationalize the gift, wondering exactly what he had done to deserve such an extravagant present.  Tim knew it had to be Bruce for two reasons.  First, the laptop was prohibitively expensive.  The top of the line model, like the one in the box before him, retailed for over ten thousand dollars.

The second reason it had to be from Bruce was: this model was not on sale yet.  The official product launch was to take place next Tuesday, and Tim was to be on hand at a local electronics store to sell the first one to whoever was lucky enough to be first in line as a publicity stunt.  They hadn’t been shipped to the stores yet.  As far as he knew, each and every one was under lock and key at the Wayne Enterprises building, and would not be shipped until the day of launch.  Tim checked the box and packaging, but found no note to confirm it had come from Bruce.  Tim turned on the laptop, surprised to find the battery charged.  He hadn’t taken notice of the standard security seals on the box, which had been neatly sliced.  As the laptop warmed up, the welcome screen popped up with the message, “Welcome Tim Drake.”  ‘ _He even had it programmed for me, how did Bruce do this?’_ Tim thought.

The computer then asked him to input his password.  Tim was drawing a blank on what Bruce would program in as a password for him, and since there was no note that he could find, Tim took a gamble and placed his index finger against the biometric fingerprint scanner next to the power button.  The laptop put a thank you message on the screen and brought up the operating system.  Tim closed the laptop without doing anything else, his suspicions confirmed that this had to come from Bruce.  Who else would have a copy of his fingerprints?  They weren’t even in his personnel file at Wayne Enterprises.  Tim got up, changed into a pair of jeans, grabbed the laptop and the packaging and drove over to the manor.  He had to talk to Bruce.  There was no way he could accept such an extravagant and expensive present, even from his adoptive multi-billionaire father on his birthday.  It was times like this that his humble, middle class upbringing shone forth the most.  He hated being the object of charity and felt that he should have to work for everything.  It didn’t occur to him to just accept a gift in the manner in which it was given, his analytical mind would not allow such extravagance to be wasted on one as unworthy as him.

Tim set a new land speed record for non-Batman related vehicles in getting from Gotham to the manor.  Dick opened the door when he knocked, which surprised Tim.  He had been expecting Alfred to open the door, so much so that he had called Dick Alfred and thanked him for the cookies before realizing he was talking to Dick.  Dick gave him his usual blinding smile and pulled Tim into a hug.

“I know, I forgot to call.  Bruce said the last time he talked to you that you told him the negotiations were not going well.  I didn’t want to bother you, especially since I couldn’t quite work out the time difference and I didn’t want to call you while you were in a meeting or sleeping.  Happy birthday, Timmy!  Come on in, I have your present upstairs.” Dick had already closed the door behind Tim and was almost out of the room when Tim stopped him with a question.

“Is Alfred okay, I expected him to answer the door.”

Dick smiled again, “I could tell when you called me Alfred.  He is in the ballroom, I told him I would get the door.”

Tim looked in the vague direction of the large, wood-paneled room.  Even though it was down the long entryway and halfway down another hall, Tim could make out piano music coming from the general area.  Tim had never known Alfred to allow music to be played in the manor at such a volume that it could be heard this far away.

“Dick, is Bruce with him?  I really need to talk to him,” Tim asked.

Dick replied, “No, he is in the study, working.  Didn’t seem like he wanted to be disturbed earlier, but maybe he will be okay with you dropping in.”

Tim walked down the hall to Bruce’s study, which is in the same hallway as the ballroom.  The music coming from the room sounded amazing, but had a quality to it that Tim couldn’t place at first.  As he walked into the open door of Bruce’s study he realized two things: one, the door to Bruce’s study was never open while Bruce was working and, two, the music was being played live.  It wasn’t a recording.  Did Alfred know how to play the piano that well?

Bruce looked up and smiled at his adopted son as he sat down across the desk from the billionaire.  Bruce said, “Welcome back, congratulations on the successful negotiation, and happy birthday.  When did you get back, son?”

“Thank you, it was harder than I thought to get the deal we wanted from them, but we got it.  I got in a couple hours ago.  Stopped home, saw this,” Tim held up the laptop box, “and had to come over.  Bruce, thank you for the thought and expense you put into this, but you know I can’t accept something this expensive.  Even if it is from you; even if it is for my birthday.”

Bruce looked confused at the box Tim was holding up.  “Sorry to burst your bubble Tim, but I didn’t send you anything for your birthday.  I have your gift here, and I was going to take you out for lunch one day next week.  Don’t know who sent that to you, but it looks like someone likes you.”

“What do you mean you didn’t send it?  Of course you sent it.  The return address is from here.  Besides, you are just about the only person I know who could afford it.”

“A laptop?  Aren’t they getting pretty cheap now?  Besides, I wouldn’t pick out something like that for you.  I know how particular you are about your computers.  I might go with you to pick one out, but it would have to be your choice.  What is so special about this one that you can’t accept it?”  Bruce was still confused, but he looked at the return address on the packaging and, sure enough, it was Wayne manor.

Tim looked shocked.  Why was Bruce pretending he hadn’t done it?  “Do you really expect me to believe that you don’t know?  This is one of Wayne Tech’s new laptops; top of the line.  I helped design the prototype, remember?  This is the one that I told you would be a portable Bat-Computer.”

Bruce looked thoughtful.  He liked the idea of a portable Bat-Computer.  “Now that you mention it, I do remember you talking about a project a while ago.  But why is this such a problem?”

“Because Bruce, they haven’t gone on sale yet.  The big publicity stunt next week at Best Buy?  That is the launch event for this model.  And…” Tim looked away from Bruce, a bit of embarrassment on his face, and mumbled, “It costs ten thousand dollars.  No one should be spending that much on me.”

Bruce’s eyes bugged out of his head as he heard the price figure and before he could stop himself he said, “It cost HOW MUCH!”

When he had settled himself, Bruce saw the depressed look on Tim’s face return, the look that Bruce and Dick had spent years trying to permanently erase from Tim’s face.  Tim had long suffered from bouts of depression and feelings of general worthlessness.  It had taken a long time to convince him that he was worthwhile and loved, but the old feelings still had a way of finding their way to the surface.  Bruce came around the desk and sat in the chair next to Tim’s.  “Son, I didn’t get this for you, but that is not to say that you are not worth every penny and every thought that someone put into this gift.  Whoever did this must think you are something special, the same way we all think of you.  And don’t give me that look, you and Damian are getting along better, I can see it in the way that he doesn’t try to kill you anymore.”

This got a chuckle out of Tim.  “It had to be someone here, though.  The computer has been programmed for my use.  It even has my fingerprint encoded into the unlock feature.  No one outside of this _room_ has access to my fingerprints.”

“Well, we will have to do some investigating,” Bruce replied.

At this time, the music from the Ballroom stopped and two sets of hands began applauding from inside the ballroom.  Tim looked at Bruce and asked, “Is that why the door was open?  You were listening to the music?”

Bruce laughed, “You know, Dick asked the same thing.  Apparently, you all expect me to shut myself away while I work.  I thought I would take in a little music this morning.”

Tim and Bruce both got up and walked towards the Ballroom.  “I didn’t know Alfred could play like that,” Tim said as they approached the ballroom.

As they entered, Tim stopped at the doorway, his jaw dropping in shock for the second time that day.  Damian sat at the piano bench, smiling at Dick as the oldest son patted his brother on the shoulder, congratulating his performance.  Alfred sat in a nearby chair, wiping his eye with a handkerchief and mumbling, “Beautiful, just beautiful.”

Bruce looked back at Tim’s expression and smiled.  He walked back to his third son and placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him into the ball room and closer to the piano while explaining, “Apparently, while not learning the finer arts of killing people, Talia also taught him the fine arts.  He tells me that he is also accomplished in the Clarinet, French horn, Violin, and, surprisingly enough, the Electric Guitar.”

Damian looked over at Tim as he and Bruce approached the piano.  Tim saw the quick glance at the laptop before Damian turned to whisper something to Dick.  Dick smiled and Tim instantly grew wary.  Dick then walked around the piano, grabbed Bruce’s wrist, and began dragging him towards the door, saying “Let’s go get our gifts for Tim’s birthday.  Alfred, could you get Damian some water, he worked up a bit of a thirst.”  Tim didn’t hear Dick whisper “slowly” to the old man in passing.  Tim found himself alone with Damian and on guard, almost scared of what the Demon Brat had in mind.

Tim decided to break the ice first.  “I had no idea you could play like that.  When I walked in the house, I thought it was a recording.  It was…Amazing.”

Damian gave Tim a rare, small smile.  He looked like he wanted to say something, even opened his mouth, but then looked away and mumbled “Thank you.”

Tim’s discomfort grew, but he decided to confront it head on.  Later, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone why, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time.  “You looked like you were going to say something, what is it?”

Damian looked more uncomfortable than Tim had seen him look in a long time.  The boy looked back and said, “Um, happy birthday.”

Tim was feeling more suspicious, then he remembered the glance at the laptop and tried his luck.  Tim placed the laptop on top of the piano and said, “Say, someone sent me this for my birthday.  The return address is from the manor, but Bruce said he doesn’t know anything about it.  Did you hear anyone talking about sending me something really expensive for my birthday?”

Damian flushed a bright red, which shocked Tim.  Damian rarely showed any emotion around him, other than disdain or annoyance.  He looked away and mumbled, “I thought you would like it.  It was your project.”

Tim was glad he had put the laptop on the piano, otherwise he would have dropped it as realization set in.  Damian had sent him the laptop.

“YOU SENT IT?  Why? HOW?  Whose money did you use?”

“I thought you would like it,” Damian repeated.  Tim could see that Damian almost looked close to tears, and Tim couldn’t understand why.  The Demon Brat had sent him a very thoughtful, very expensive, impossible to get present.  Could he be trying to make peace?  After all the time of almost open hostilities?

Tim decided to accept his perceived olive branch.  “Damian, I love it.  Thank you.  What I don’t understand is, why?  I didn’t expect you to even remember my birthday, much less get me a gift, especially one as special as this.  This took some time and effort, a lot of time and effort.  I’m stunned, shocked.  Thank you.  But WHY?”  Tim took a seat near Damian and stared at the boy, who looked like he would be more comfortable if he were being lead to a firing squad instead of having this conversation.

Damian looked at the keyboard as he quietly started his explanation.  “I’m sorry for the way I have treated you, Drake.  It was wrong of me.  I didn’t realize just how I may have made you feel until recently, when talking with Grayson.  He has been trying to get me to be more ‘personable’ so that he is not the only person who can stand to be around me.  When he told me just how many people in our line of work dislike me and refuse to work with me, it hurt.  I realized I wanted to change at least some of those relationships.  Grayson suggested I start with you, since you were the first person I alienated.  He was right, you have tried on several occasions to reach out to me, and I have swatted you away, or thrown you off the dinosaur.  Grayson also told me what people call me.  While that hurt too, what hurt the most was that he attributed the ‘Demon Brat’ name as your invention.  That hurt, and I didn’t want that anymore.  I don’t want to be thought of that way anymore.  As much as I didn’t understand it at the time, I understand now that we are family, at least as far as father and Grayson are concerned.  I want to start acting like family, now that I am starting to understand what that really means.  I hoped this could be a peace offering, to show you that I am serious about starting a new relationship.  Happy birthday, Tim.”

Tim was stunned, to say the least.  Not only had Damian been thoughtful on his behalf, but that was the most words he had ever heard Damian utter in the entire time he had known the boy.  Tim stared at Damian, who looked up to the older boy with cautious hope on his face.  Tim swallowed once, then again.  Damian looked down again, but not before Tim saw a solitary tear run down the boy’s cheek.  It then dawned on Tim that he had taken way too long to respond to the boy’s heartfelt plea, and Damian must be thinking that Tim was rejecting him.

The younger boy turned to stand up and leave, it now painfully obvious that he had wasted his time exposing his weaknesses and feelings to Drake.  As the boy stood up, Tim stood as well, rushed the couple feet between them, and grabbed Damian in a crushing hug.  Tears were running down the faces of both boys as Tim whispered into Damian’s ear, “Of course, Damian.  Thank you, brother.  We didn’t get off to a good start, but we can work it out.  I’m sorry, this is just such a shock for me.  It’s a lot to get used to so quickly.  I’m sorry I hurt you.  I didn’t know you well enough to know how much I was hurting you.  We can start over.  I wasn’t much for the family concept either, before coming here.  We can learn it together.”

Damian pressed his face into Tim’s shoulder for a few minutes, hugging his older brother back now.  “Can we really start over?” Damian asked, when he could get words out again.  “I haven’t lost that chance with you?”

Tim pulled back and smiled through the tears of joy.  “Of course we can.  I can’t say it will be perfect, but we can try.  If you are willing to try, then so am I.”

The two hugged for another minute before separating.  Then Damian asked, “What about the names?”

“Well, that one may be a little harder to get over, but I’m sure you have a few names for me that will be just as hard to stop using.  I will try, but you are going to have to earn it.  I promise I won’t call you a Demon Brat anymore, unless you earn it.”  Tim held up his hand in a mock Boy Scout salute.

Damian gave a soft smile, held up his own salute, and replied, “I promise not to throw you off anymore dinosaurs, if I can help it.”

“Brat,” Tim said with a smile.

“Hey, how did I earn that?”

“At least it wasn’t ‘Demon’ Brat.  I _said_ it was going to be a process.  We’ll have to work on it.”

The two were silent again, but this time it was a warm and comfortable silence.  Tim then said, “You were really good with the piano earlier.”

Damian slowly replied, “I could play something else for you, if you like?”

Dick had walked in when Tim was complementing Damian on his playing.  “Hey Damian,” Damian rushed to wipe his face before looking up at Dick.  “You said you were going to try to learn the song from that video I showed you last week.  Maybe you could try playing that one?”

Damian looked like a deer in the headlights.  “I only just started that one, it won’t be any good.  Not in the arrangement I am trying to get down.”

“Just give it a shot, no one is going to love you any less if you hit a wrong note.”  Dick smiled encouragingly at his youngest brother and took a seat next to Tim.

Damian looked doubtful, but started anyway.  The song sounded faintly Baroque to Tim’s untrained ear, but he could appreciate the complexity of the piece.  Soon the tempo started to speed up and Damian looked like he may be having a little trouble playing this piece from memory.  Then Tim reminded himself that he had not seen one piece of sheet music in the room, and he found a new level of appreciation for Damian’s talent.

Tim made a quick realization fairly early in the song that the arrangement Damian was talking about was an arrangement for a duet, and Damian was attempting to play both parts.  Not only attempting, but succeeding impressively.

The song started to sound familiar to Tim.  Then his eyes widened and he stared at Dick, who had a grin from ear to ear as he nodded at Tim.  The song was an arrangement of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck and Tim now realized where he had heard the arrangement before.  Dick had sent him a link to a video of two guys playing this on the Cello a couple weeks ago.  Tim had been impressed at the showmanship in the video, but was doubly impressed by the eleven year old prodigy sitting at the keyboard, eyes wide in concentration, fingers pounding the keys, sweat forming at his temples as he became one with the music.

The song ended.  The last few notes echoed in the ballroom as Damian, short of breath and sweating, looked up at his brothers with a look on his face that begged ‘was that good enough?’  Tim was amazed at the talent sitting before him.  He looked over at Dick, who still had the ear to ear grin, and watched as Dick pulled a lighter out of his pocket, lit it, and held it high, saying “Awesome, Little D, just awesome.”

Tim stood up and walked over to his little brother and asked, “You’ve only been working on that for a week?  That was amazing!”

Damian smiled at Tim as applause broke out from the back of the room.  Unseen, Bruce and Alfred had returned to the room and were just as amazed as the two younger men.

Tim placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder and the boy looked up to him, smiling with relief that they liked it.  Tim said, “I think that was the best birthday present I have ever had.”

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A/N: Check Youtube for the video 2Cellos: Thunderstruck to hear the arrangement that was going through my mind when writing the final piano scene.  I can see Damian playing both parts on the piano, by himself, because he is awesome like that.

Yes, I realize all the ooc-ness of the story, it is just something that came to me one day and I had to write it down.  I also feel that Tim and Damian should have a better relationship.


End file.
